A Heart of Tin
by Jazzismylyf
Summary: A story of love on Christmas day. A retelling of one of Hans Christian Anderson's most beloved short stories. Kiotr


A/N: No, I don't own them. If I did, the X-men wouldn't be such a mess right now.

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Once upon a time, a toy tin soldier was given to a little boy on Christmas Eve. Elated, he ran up to the playroom and immediately set him up on the table in front of a miniature wooden house which held many other toys. The boy declared that the toy soldier was to be named Peter, and led him about on many charges throughout the playroom.

The hours passed, and when it came time for the boy to go to bed, he set the soldier up as guard in front of the wooden house, with a complete view of the room. And off to bed he went.

Now, it is a well known fact that come the stroke of midnight, all toys wake up and begin to play amongst themselves. They began play at war and teatime, at balls and visits. The toy soldier, however, remained steadfast at his post, for this was the duty to which he had been elected, and it is of the utmost importance that a soldier carries out his duty. He watched the other toys as they made play and his eyes were eventually drawn to the other end of the playroom. Here rested a lovely toy castle made of cardboard. Through the windows of the castle he could see into the many rooms as the dolls within danced and visited with one another. In front of the castle were miniature trees surrounding a lake made of mirror glass, and on this lake swam wax swans, their reflections in the mirror gazing back up at them.

The next thing the toy soldier saw made his tiny tin heart stop. Upon a pedestal overlooking the mirror lake stood a tiny ballerina figurine. Her curly brown hair fell about her shoulders, and her eyes were closed and her lips turned up into a demure smile on her flawless porcelain face. Her tamarisk pink ballet dress was made of the fluffiest gauze, and on her waist was a tiny broach in the shape of a red rose. Her arms were extended above her head as if in mid grand jete, and one leg was extended so far behind her, the tin soldier couldn't see it at all. She then lowered her head and opened her eyes to look about the room, and her deep brown eyes soon fell upon his light blue ones.

Such a beautiful thing the toy soldier had never laid eyes upon before. _How lovely she is!_ he thought to himself. _I must speak to her and know her name. But…maybe she is too grand and will not tell me. She lives in a palace, and I am only a soldier. _He looked at her again and decided that no matter what, he must at least speak to her.

He hopped down off the table and began to make his way across the playroom, a task made difficult by the myriad toys frolicking about in his way. When he had almost reached the palace, he was stopped by a large snuffbox. The lid of the snuffbox popped open just as the clock began to chime one, and out of the box bounced a mean-looking bogey, a jack-in-the-box. He coveted the ballet dancer for his own, and was jealous that she was watching this tin soldier.

"Foolish little soldier," he sneered," you would be wise to keep your eyes to yourself and know your boundaries. For you see, she is in love with me, and has no time to bother with a silly toy like you."

But Peter paid him no mind. He was determined to make the ballerina's acquaintance, and so with one strong arm he grabbed a corner of the snuffbox and lifted it until it fell over on its side. This made the bogey mad. And as Peter passed around him, he whispered angrily to the little soldier, "Just you wait till tomorrow, you fool."

At last he reached the cardboard palace. He crossed the mirror lake, careful to avoid the swans, and came to the pedestal where the tiny ballerina stood. He paused and looked up at her, at her closed eyes and coquettish smile. Nervously, he stepped up onto the pedestal and stood in front of the lovely little figurine. She opened her eyes and lifted her head to look him, and smiled sweetly at him. "Hello, handsome soldier," she said.

"Forgive my forwardness, my lady, but when I saw you from across the room, I thought that here must be the most beautiful woman in all the world. I would love more than anything to know your name."

"How sweet you are! I am called Kitty by the young mistress."

"Kat-ya."

"Close enough," the ballerina giggled. "And what is your name, sweet soldier?"

"I am called Piotr by the young master." He began to grow a little sheepish before he asked his next question. "May I escort you inside for a dance, my fair Katya?"

The young ballerina's heart could not help but be warmed by the sincerity of the toy soldier's words and actions. "I would love to dance with you. But we can hear the music just as well out here, don't you think?"

The tin soldier smiled at her words and nodded his head. "Da, I think that this is much better. Thank you, Katya."

"What are you thanking me for, silly soldier?"

"For looking at me."

From that moment onward, the young figurine's heart was no longer her own. The young couple danced away the long hours of the night, and when the light of Christmas morning began to break, the soldier was unwilling to return to his wooden house, but return he did.

It was not long after that the boy returned to his playroom, and the tin soldier was set on the window ledge. Here the bogey saw his chance. When the young master was not looking, he lobbed a wooden block at the soldier, and out the window he fell. He landed on his head, his bayonet stuck in the dirt. Above him, he could hear the distressed voice of the boy when he discovered his new toy was missing. Shortly afterward, the boy, his parents, and many of the servants of the house came outside to see if they could find it. Although they nearly stepped on him, they passed right by without seeing him.

It soon began to rain, and the parents convinced the boy to go inside, they would surely find the toy there. The drops fell faster and faster until it was falling by the bucketful. The poor toy soldier could do nothing but remain in position and withstand it.

As soon as the rain let up, two young troublemakers came along and spotted him. "What have we here?" said one of the boys.

"Why, it looks like a soldier who has broken ranks," said the other one. "He must be punished!"

"Oh, without a doubt, Captain, but which method of punishment would suit this mutinous deserter?"

One of the boys picked up a piece of paper resting in a nearby alley. With deft skill borne of practice, he shaped the paper into a little boat. "He shall be cast off in a raft to fend for himself on the high seas, Admiral!"

"The punishment is deemed fitting." And with that, they placed the poor soldier in the paper boat and set him afloat in the gutter. It splashed along with the two troublemakers running alongside it and clapping their hands in glee. The paper boat pitched and tossed, and sometimes it whirled about so rapidly that it made the soldier's head spin. But he stood as steady as ever. Never once flinching, he kept his eyes front, and carried his gun shoulder-high. Suddenly the boat rushed under a long plank where the gutter was boarded over. It was as dark as night, but the soldier simply thought of the beautiful figurine waiting for him, and he didn't mind the dark so much.

He soon happened upon a sewer rat that lived under the long plank. "Do you have your passport? Hand it over."

"I have no passport. I am simply at the mercy of the current."

"None may pass by me without showing me their passport and paying a toll! You must be punished!"

But the current picked up and rushed the tiny boat right past the water rat. He chased after it and gnashed his teeth, trying to grasp it in his mouth, but the boat continued on, just out of his reach. Up ahead, the soldier could see a light where the plank ended, and a great roar that accompanied it. At the end of the gutter plank was a great canal into which the water poured, and was as dangerous to him as a waterfall would be to a normal person. The boat began to pitch and spin in the rushing current, but not once he flinch. He stood staunch and stoic as the boat began to fill with water, and was finally pitched over the side into the canal. As he fell he thought of his ballerina. _Oh, now I will never see her again! I wish that I had told her how I love her, but now it is too late!_ And with that, the paper boat landed in the canal, the bottom broke, and the soldier went sinking through it into the waters of the canal.

At that moment, he was suddenly swallowed by a large fish as it swam by. It was darker in that fish than under the gutter plank, and more cramped than his box had been. But the soldier said not a word and laid there full length soldier fashion, with his musket pressed to his shoulder.

Meanwhile, the poor young ballerina was frightfully worried about what could have possibly happened to her poor tin soldier. To make matters worse, the bogey began to make advances to her. He fancied that since he had gotten rid of the soldier, the figurine would forget him and turn to the jack-in-the-box.

But Kitty, disgusted by what she had seen the bogey do, turned away from him and refused to acknowledge him in the least. This angered the bogey, and his affection toward the ballerina turned to annoyance. How could she still choose that lost toy over him? The thought did not sit well with him, and he thought that if he could not make the ballerina fall in love with him, then he would just have to get rid of her as well.

The fish carrying the toy soldier swam along until it came to a narrow in the river. A fisherman sat along the bank, his line cast in the middle of the narrow. The fish, tempted by the fisherman's bait, swallowed the hook, and was caught. It was taken to a fish market, where it was sold to the cook of a certain house. The cook returned to her kitchen, and cut the fish open to prepare it for dinner. Out fell the tin soldier, and after the cook had recovered her initial shock, she recognized it right away. After rinsing him off, she carried him up to the young master's playroom.

The boy was beside himself with joy at having his new toy returned to him, but no one could quite figure out how it had ended up in the belly of a fish. The boy returned the toy soldier to his place in front of the wooden house, and went downstairs for dinner.

As soon as the door was closed behind him, the soldier turned and looked at the palace, searching for his beloved figurine. He was dismayed when he saw the snuffbox sitting right next to her, and the figurine called across the room to him. "Oh, Peter, you're back!" she cried, and if she could cry, tears of joy and relief would have stained her cheeks. At the sound of her cry, the bogey popped out of the box and grabbed the figurine in his hands and began to inch his box toward the fireplace.

Piotr saw this, and immediately hopped off the table and began to run in the direction of the fireplace. He managed to reach the snuffbox just before it reached the fireplace, and again he grabbed a corner of the box and heaved until it was upended on its side once more. Kitty went flying from the bogey's arms, but Piotr was just in time to catch her and stop her from shattering on the floor.

Incensed, the bogey attempted to right himself, but was a little too close to the hearth. His arm caught on fire, and because he was made of wood, he was soon nothing more than a pile of ashes and cinders.

Kitty, elated to once again be in the arms of her soldier, wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, Peter, I thought you were gone for good! How did you manage to return to me?"

"I believe it was a little bit of Christmas magic, my Katya." With that, he leaned his head down and captured her lips with his own. "Merry Christmas, my love."

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**Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! **


End file.
